


The Botanist and the Pyrestarter

by Birbliophile



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game), Don't Starve Together - Fandom
Genre: Again please note there is injury in this story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Magmatic Willow, Not Beta Read, Not exactly but close enough that I used the name Pyrestarter, Sort of? - Freeform, Verdant Wilson, Wilson gets burned so warning for mild bodily harm I suppose, am I tagging this right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28565439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birbliophile/pseuds/Birbliophile
Summary: An unsuspecting botanist out on a small field expedition finds himself in the middle of a wildfire.
Relationships: Willow/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	The Botanist and the Pyrestarter

Usually, he’d prefer to simply pay someone to bring him samples, not being fond of being out in the wilderness among the dirt and bugs. More than once a fellow researcher had questioned Wilson’s pursuit of botany for this very reason - after all, shouldn’t a botanist revel in taking field sketches? And yet, here he was, out in the late fall chill picking half-decayed leaves off the forest floor and tucking them into his knapsack with a sigh. 

It wasn’t so bad, Wilson decided. Even if he had accidentally walked into low hanging branches a few times and mussed up his carefully groomed hair, the air was crisp and fresh and he already had several lovely samples of local flora that would be fascinating to dissect later. And it was quite nice to do the selecting himself for once, no risk of being brought back the same exact species of weed that he had seen more than twenty five times. 

As he deftly snipped off a piece of fern, a chorus of agitated birdsong reached Wilson’s ears, mixed with a frenetic chittering sound. To the botanist’s confusion, he was suddenly surrounded by a horde of birds, squirrels, mice, and rabbits, all running as if the wind itself was throwing them far beyond the undergrowth. 

“By the arboreal giants, what on earth is happening?” Wilson barely had time to react further when a wave of heat struck his face, his hair blowing back in the wind. A wave of fire was scorching through the trees in the distance, approaching at a terrifying rate. 

Wilson uttered an expletive that his mother, rest her soul, would have most certainly disapproved of, but that incongruous thought was soon replaced with an incessant voice in his head screaming at him to run as fast as humanly possible. 

The air was soon choked with ash, the heat at Wilson’s back threatening to scorch the edges of his hair. Wilson threw an arm across his mouth and nose, but quickly felt his lungs begin to ache and itch with a tremendous intensity. Coughing violently, he pressed blindly forward, his other arm held over his knapsack as if shielding a child. 

Wilson’s legs grew weak and with a startled gasp he felt a stray root strike his ankles, sending him rolling over into the dry dirt. Brilliant light swirled around him, deadly curls of red and orange and yellow, so close he felt as if his face was starting to sear. 

Gasping and coughing into his elbow on the ground, Wilson weakly pulled his bag to his chest, his eyes stinging in the smoke. And then he saw something strange. It appeared to be a human figure, but it was as if they were made entirely of flames. It stood several feet away from him, one hand on a blackening tree trunk whose leaves had completely burned away. Two pure white ovals stared at Wilson, unflinching. 

Well, he must be hallucinating now, here in the last few moments of his life. The fiery figure stepped closer to Wilson, tilting its head to the side. As it drew closer Wilson found himself captivated with how it moved as if part of the inferno itself, aglow with light and power. 

Wilson’s breaths were heavy and tired now, and he could feel his body giving in to the exhaustion and lack of air. The fire creature was very close now, leaning down to examine him curiously. Wilson could smell his hair burning, feel the heat begin to eat away at him. 

“I suppose,” Wilson said weakly, his coughs causing his whole body to shudder. “I suppose I’m going to die now.”

The creature stared at him, hypnotic eyes unflinching. 

“Still,” Wilson said, coughing. “Whatever you are...you’re rather beautiful.”

The creature blinked and moved back suddenly, just as Wilson’s eyes closed to the flames. 

* * *

  
  


Wilson awoke to the harsh white light of a hospital room, his body wrapped in bandages and his lungs heavy with the pain of breathing. And yet, inexplicably, very much alive. 

“Ah, Professor Higgsbury,” the physician standing over him said curtly, before the foggy feeling in Wilson’s head had fully cleared. “I see you’ve come to.”

Wilson opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but only a hoarse gasp escaped him. 

“Don’t even try to exert your voice,” the doctor scolded. “You’ve suffered from quite a bad case of smoke inhalation, not to mention several second degree burns and a few third degrees to boot.” He tapped a clipboard imperiously. “You’re lucky to be alive, honestly. Going out in the woods alone?”

But how had he survived? Wilson gave the doctor a look that he hoped conveyed his utter and complete confusion. 

“Hmm. You must be wondering who discovered you,” the doctor said. “It was all rather peculiar, honestly. According to one of the individuals living nearby, the fire died down in a single instant, as if a blanket had been thrown over the entire forest. That’s when they spotted you, surrounded by a circle of blackened foliage in the midst of the whole landscape.”

Wilson blinked in bewilderment. 

“Yes, it’s a bizarre report to be sure. Still, you’re alive, and that’s really all that matters,” the doctor said, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

Wilson sighed, a painful exhale as he leaned back into the pillows. None of it made any sense. He had been surrounded by fire...what happened? And that strange hallucination…

It was a stupid, nonsensical thought, but Wilson felt a faint twinge in his chest that, if one squinted, might be called longing. 

* * *

Far away, resting in a blackened husk of a tree trunk, a young fire elemental delicately flipped through the pages of a slim brown field journal, careful not to burn the pages with her touch. 

Her glowing orange fingers brushed over a thin, spidery script, reminiscent of a harried but dedicated researcher, eager to share his findings with the world. A picture of a brilliant red flower caught her eye and she lingered on it, drinking in the idea of a flame that did not burn. 

For the first time, the spirit wondered if something that wasn’t fire could be beautiful too.


End file.
